Buy Circuitous Route – $13

But Never Like This

i don’t like this guy and i don’t want him here
and i’m not really crazy about you either, my dear
to tell you the truth, i think you’d all better leave
you’re just using up the air that i breathe
hey…didn’t i see you on avenue B
reading some miserable, lame poetry
and i remember thinking, ‘why don’t you just
get a job?
all this whining and moaning…
man, you don’t know hard’
yeah, i’ve been down, but never like this
i’m dark and despondent and easily pissed
maybe i just need a good therapist
yeah, i’ve been down, but never like this
i will sing what i want to, you beady-eyed mole
fi nd someone else’s soul to cajole
i’m no fresh, fl y, johnny-come-lately
i prefer my songs in a minor key
yeah, i’ve been down, but never like this
i’m crampy and cranky and certainly pissed
don’t ask me to smile, i will resist
yeah, i’ve been down, but never like this
now all of a sudden there are things to avoid
i used to be fun, but now i’m annoyed
and it doesn’t help any to read the tabloids
are we more in harm’s way or just more paranoid?
oh tell me again, you think i’m stressed?
y’think i’ve got issues i need to address?
well, i can’t argue that, but tell me how do i keep
these visions away and get back to sleep
i’m thinkin’ montana or saskatchewan
i am thinking about some boat i can get on
but wait just a minute, i love nyc…
let those sick sonsofbitches just try and get me
and yeah, i’ve been down, but never like this
i’m nauseous, neurotic, but primarily pissed
and now someone resents the fact i exist?
well yeah, i’ve been down, but never like this
yeah
i’ve been down, but never like this

Shoot The Moon

I keep you under wraps
Like I was CIA
and you were some covert mark
There’s nothing as cold
As the light of day
When you’re standing in the dark
You can have them hold your mail
You can turn the ringer off
Pull the sheets over your head
Sooner or later you’ll stop shooting yourself
and shoot the moon instead

Never slowing down as Hudson curves around Horatio
Cabs are in a hurry for a fare
But summer being what it is,
and this night’s a beauty
Folks just want to get a little air
The harder I listen, the less I hear
The more I search, the less I find
But it feels like love is one part lightning
and two parts making up your mind

Start up the Chrysler, point it East
Let’s see how fast this baby goes
You know it’s often said
The one you need the least
Is the one you want the most

I’m getting tired of coming close
tired of the chances I don’t take
The thing about the heart that hurts the most
Is when you just can’t feel it break

I swear when I drink and
I’m cursed when I don’t and
Like everyone, I want to be rich
I guess it would be to stay in love,
yeah, that’s it…If I had one wish

Might As Well Leave

You can’t call it right
Just cause it’s not wrong
You can’t call it love
Just cause we get along
If you don’t see me now
Like you saw me before
There’s no use in calling me baby no more

Your far away eyes, the words you don’t say
I’m looking for something that time took away
You’ve played the last card up your sleeve
You’re already gone you might as well leave

Am I keeping you from saying goodbye
By trying to drink from a well that’s gone dry
You’ve pulled away, that’s just a fact
There’s really not much I can do about that

Your far away eyes, the words you don’t say
I’m looking for something that time took away
And it’s getting harder to breathe
You’re already gone, you might as well leave

I’m seeing the light and it looks so dark
The holding me tight, I miss that part
And there’s not much left to talk about
You found your way in; you can find your way out

You can’t call it happy
Just cause we’re not crying
You can’t call it living
Just cause we’re not dying
You don’t see me now like you saw me before
My heart cannot take that anymore

Your far away eyes, the words you don’t say
I’m looking for something that time took away
You played the last card up your sleeve
You’re already gone you might as well leave

5 Girls

Five girls leaning on the bar tonight
Five tattoos at the small of their back
Since when has our skin become a canvas
I want to ask the one with the cellophane back pack
Yeah and I think that I might tell her that she’s
looking like a billboard
With that shirt that is cute,
but oh, so inappropriate for the season
Instead I drag my hand across the bar
and grab my keys and walk away
But you can’t be crucified
for the things that you don’t say

There’s something going down on 7th Avenue
Some dude handcuffed and down on his knees
These boys couldn’t be less interested
A bunch of Kojak wannabes
Yeah, well you could shave your head and suck a
lollipop and still end up a traffic cop
Trying hard tonight to choose between
the Chocolate Glaze and Boston Cream
But you can’t be crucified
for the things that you don’t dream

He’s lost in austerity in his forty-story tower
Rolling in prosperity and grateful for his power
He’s no maverick but sleeps just fine
And he once told me if he said no ten times
He’d be right at least nine

I said, Hey
If Edison had said no
If Jonas Salk had said no
If Debussy had said no
If Jesus Christ had said no
If Willie Mays had said no
If Shakespeare had said no
If Sigmund Freud had said no
I’ll tell you where we’d be
We’d be sick and in the darkness
With no one to inspire us
And nothing on TV
And even less in the fridge
We’d be blaming dad for everything
And not even have our Sundays off to barbeque
But you can’t be crucified
for the things you don’t do

So you might as well put it on the line once in awhile
Maybe leave something more than ashes in a pile
You got a brain, You got style
So you might as well put it on the line once in awhile
Yeah well, I forgot my glasses
So it’s back to that bar I go
Another chance to tell that girl
She shouldn’t let a stranger
stick a pen into her ass
But no, instead of being helpful
I realize what I really want to do
Is see the whole tattoo
Trace it with my lips
Erase it with my tongue
Finger paint the remaining Chinese alphabet
With the hot fudge I saved from Bouley Bakery
which took a month to get a reservation
Plus I didn’t know I had to slip Pierre a fifty
not to be put next to the bathrooms
with the pictures of the little hen
and rooster on the door
Now I found my glasses
But instead of fessing up
I catch her eye and give a stupid half-way smile

and a feeble little nod

and mumble something about an early day

But you can’t be crucified
for the things that you don’t say

Symphony in 16 Bars

How do I put this down?
How can I make it clear?
What I am feeling now.
How I wish you were here.
How do you fit an ocean
Into a riverbed?
How do I turn your memory
Back into you instead?

I might as well try naming all the stars
Or write a symphony in 16 bars

Workin' On A Way

It’s not that I don’t want to walk you all the way tonight
I’ve got this thing in the morning, alright?
I want to be rested, need to look sharp
Get a better version of myself to show
The one you said you liked so much
A few nights ago

Here’s five bucks, take a taxi or
Spend it on an ice cream cone
Something sweet like you,
but you’re gonna have to eat alone
I gotta find something decent to wear
All my crap’s so old, I swear
This eye twitch came from nowhere
Makes me look jumpy and scared
Like I need a fix
Like I get my kicks
Touring with Styx
So I can get chicks
Damn these ticks
I’ve got to get out my Schick and shave

I’m working on a way
To get us out of here
They’ll all show up one day
And we’ll be gone shifting gears
You can’t get nothing here but old
we’re gonna turn rust into gold
It might seem like we’re doomed to stay
But I’m working on a way

What do you mean? We make love plenty
It’s just not as urgent
Could you say it a little louder
I don’t think that guy in the semi heard you
While we’re on the subject
I had another dream about
How I get so far up there
And can’t find my way back out
When I finally do
I have one less particular

And guys, you know, we like things big
If only just vehicular
You suck for saying I’ll never change
And I suck for never changing

I’m working on a way to get us out of here
They’ll all show up one day
And we’ll be gone shifting gears
You can’t get nothing here but old
We’re gonna turn rust into gold
It might seem like we’re doomed to stay
Well, I’m working on a way

I like those bluegrass licks
I’m crazy about the way they sing
I love it when the banjo picks that
dingdikadingdikadingding
Hey come here, look at this map
Maybe we’ll head toward Blue Ridge
Somewhere South like that
Where Billie Jo jumped off that bridge
Did they figure that one out
I think it was suicide
It’ll feel so good when we can ride ride ride
I always think it’s nice down there
The trees and the sky so big
Then I get this picture of Ned Beatty
Squealing like a pig

I’m working on a way
To get us out of here
They’ll all show up one day
And we’ll be gone shifting gears
You can’t get nothing here but old
But we’re gonna turn rust into gold
It might seem like we’re doomed to stay
But I’m working on a way
(repeat)

In My Recurring Dream

in my recurring dream we have a daughter with a boyfriend
with a moustache with a taste for younger women, like our daughter
and he has this little habit when he tries to make a point, points his finger
which if it had not been eaten by a table saw when he was 23
would really help to emphasize his point, instead we are distracted by the
sight of the missing joint and no one hears a word he says…
in my recurring dream

in my recurring dream i give a man a 20 dollar bill
’cause he likes smokey robinson and lives on the street, but still
will never confuse the temptations with the miracles
when he walks into the grocery and hears them on the radio
and i’m sad he’s on the street, but glad he can feel the thrill
when “tracks of my tears” comes on and then “blueberry hill”
so here’s my 20 dollar bill…in my recurring dream

in my recurring dream, and this one comes too often
there’s a plane filled with people with carry-on coffins and
i don’t know all the rules regarding karma, but i suspect that
when the good outweighs the bad,
some automatic self-protect should kick in
but here y’got this plane and as it starts to rise
i can see the panic in every pair of eyes and the
silent voices calling in slow motion, trapped and falling, falling…

wake up, you sleepy head – get up, get out of bed
cheer up, the sun is overhead

in my recurring dream, i was eleven when it started
i am standing in my backyard, shooting arrows at a
target
while inside the house, my mother, now remarried
since
last night’s untimely death of my dad
she leans over the couch where he’s still lying – to kiss
him
it’s not that we are ghoulish, it’s just that we would
miss him
so we leave him there a little while longer
and a good thing too, i guess, cause dying’s made him
stronger and three days later he gets up to watch the
news
and the news is often bad, and the news is often sad
and i know a lot of us are happier when we’re sad

wake up, you sleepy head – get up, get out of bed
cheer up, the sun is straight overhead

in my recurring dream, i am working with my brother
we are drawbridge operators and cannot see each
other
when we pull the ropes that raise the road
this cloud above me suddenly explodes
into a million little lullabies that fall into my ears
and steal my attention, but they take away my fear
so when i slip off the rope and fall through the icy waves
i realize it’s not jesus, it’s music that saves
and the fish swim by me with faces like goats
i sink into the darkness – but still hear all the notes

in my recurring dream, i am saying what i feel like
to anyone i feel like and i don’t care what they think of me
to any girl i feel like and i don’t care if she’ll sleep with me
i like what i feel like and i like who i’ve come to be
i’m locked into the moment, and i love with all my might
i am giving all i have, and i’m fearless of the night
i am hopeful – yeah, not holdin’ on so tight
i am giving up the fight – i am giving up the fight
in my recurring dream